


You got 99 problems, I got 80 proof

by QuirkyNeon (iforgetlikeanelephant)



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M, alcoholic ray, brad comes home, it's angsty and then it's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 21:12:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12590624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iforgetlikeanelephant/pseuds/QuirkyNeon
Summary: Ray's a hot mess and everyone leaves (those two things are only vaguely connected, they're not leavingbecausehe's a hot mess, he's a hot mess because everyone is leaving).And then, Ray is less of a hot mess (less of, not completely normal, not yet) and someone comes home (that someone is Brad) and then Feelings happen (yes, capital F feelings).It's all Very Gay and Ray would be embarrassed if he didn't think he was gonna get the guy for once.





	You got 99 problems, I got 80 proof

**Author's Note:**

> I rarely do this but guys, listen to the song Whiskey Problems by Artist Vs. Poet to get the vibe of this fic (also just listen to AvP in general tbh I love all their songs)

Ray is aware in some subtle, annoying way that he’s absolutely swapped out Ripped Fuel for alcohol but also, he can’t be fucked to care. He’s a fifth into a bottle of Jack when there’s a knock on his door and he contemplates not answering the door because there’s no one that he wants to talk to.

 

Not that’s state side at least.

 

“Josh Ray Person, if you don’t open this door right now I will break it down,” a loud voice says and Ray rolls his eyes because it’s got to be Nate trying his best to sound like Brad because there’s no way it’s his Sergeant, he’s in _fucking_ England. 

 

He takes another swig of Jack straight from the bottle, because he gave up weeks ago trying to pretend like he’s not going to drink until he passes out, before he says toward the door, “You almost did it, Nate, really close to Brad’s tone this time!” 

 

“Person, open the _fucking_ _door_ ,” the voice snaps and Ray raises an eyebrow as he pushes himself up to his feet, must be serious if Nate’s pulled out the F-Bomb. He opens the door and nearly chokes on the swig he took as he reached for the handle with his free hand because holy _shit._

 

_“Brad?_ ” Ray says, confused as hell, “What the _fuck_ are you doing here?”

 

“Taking care of your whiskey-tango dumb ass,” Brad snaps, pushing his way into Ray’s apartment and grabbing the bottle from his hand. Ray doesn’t try to pull it back because he’s still in too much shock, his fingers too numb to grip the bottle as tightly as he needs to to keep it from the other man. 

 

Ray snaps out of his fog of _what the fuck_ just in time to turn toward his kitchen, watching Brad pour his Jack down the sink and _no_. “No! What the _fuck,_ homes? You can’t just come into _my_ fuckin’ house and dump _my_ fuckin’ alcohol!” He slams his front door shut before he storms into the kitchen, just in time to slap his hand against the freezer door, shutting it just before Brad sticks his hand into it to grab the other bottles Ray has stashed in there. 

 

“Oh, you seem to think I’m _asking_ , real cute,” Brad says and Ray’s surprised at the strength that he uses to push him out of the way, causing Ray, who is _way_ too drunk to deal with this right now, to stumble back against the kitchen counter and swear as Brad pulls bottle after bottle out, dumping them into the sink with a grim look on his face. 

 

“What the _fuck_?” Ray asks, because that’s all he can think as he looks at the empty bottles lined up next to the sink, his heart hammering in his throat.

 

“Nate called, said you’d been hiding out in your den of ill repute and drinking like you were a fish looking for water in the bottom of the bottle. I can’t let the best RTO in the goddamn business drink himself to death,” Brad says after he runs the water in the sink, rinsing every drop of liquor into the drain and Ray wishes, for just a moment, that he could handle the look that Brad’s giving him. 

 

“I’m not _in_ the goddamn business anymore,” Ray argues, crossing his arms over his chest and refusing to meet Brad’s eye, “Which means you have _no right_.”

 

“Don’t I?” Brad asks and Ray isn’t surprised when the other man grabs his shoulders, shaking him slightly. “Ray, you can’t kill yourself like this,” he says and Ray _is_ surprised at how intense he sounds, it’s enough to make him look into Brad's face for the first time since he pushed into the apartment. 

 

“Why not?” Ray snaps, his mouth in a hard line, “Everyone else is about to be shipped off, you’re supposed to be in fucking _England_ , and I’m here, alone, dealing with the fact that all my friends are probably going to die in a goddamn war that’s going on too long for no goddamn reason. Why the _fuck_ shouldn’t I kill myself like this?” 

 

“Because _I need you_ ,” Brad nearly roars in response and Ray…Ray doesn’t know how to take that.

 

Ray snorts out a laugh, because how else is he supposed to react. “ _You_ need _me_? That’s laughable, Brad, a real gut buster. If you really needed me you wouldn’t have agreed to join the fucking _Royal Marines!”_ He realizes that he’s probably louder than he needs to be but it's surprised out of him. 

 

“I can’t have you,” Brad says, tossing his arms in the air and giving Ray a look that he’s never seen directed at him from _Brad_. “I need you, but I can’t have you, so I have to get as far away from you as possible because _I can't deal with it_ ,” He says finally and it sounds like it’s being fucking _pulled_ from him.

 

“Why the _fuck_ do you think you can’t have me?” Ray asks, pushing into Brad’s space because _what_? When the _fuck_ did he _ever_ give the impression that he didn’t want to fucking give himself to the other man.

 

Brad is shaking his head as he backs up, and Ray doesn’t feel bad for cornering him. “You _know_ why I can’t,” he’s pleading, Ray _knows_ he’s pleading, but Ray needs to hear Brad say it. He needs Brad to say that they can’t be what the other needs because of the _goddamn_ Marines _._

 

_“_ Fucking _say_ it,” Ray says, poking a finger into Brad’s chest. “We can’t be _anything_ because you've sold your soul to the goddamn _Devil_ , and you expect me to just sit here completely cool with it while you’re off in the fucking desert jerking your dick to Hustler and your _career_ ,” he huffs out a deep breath because _fuck_ , it feels good to say it. His head is spinning and he’s not sure if it’s from the rush of adrenaline he got from finally saying it or if it’s the alcohol but Ray doesn’t really care at this point. 

 

“That’s _not—_ “ Brad tries to argue but Ray pokes him in the chest again, interrupting him.

 

“It _is_ ,” Ray snaps. _You’re so hellbent on being the big man in charge_ , he thinks, looking in Brad’s eyes, _that you don’t even_ ** _realize_** _it._ “You don’t even _realize_ it, asshole,” he says as he feels the weight of that reality settle on his shoulders, he shakes his head, pushing himself backward, out of the kitchen and into the living room. His heart is beating in his throat as he drops into the chair he was sitting on when Brad first knocked, he looks up at him, “Please get out of my apartment.”

 

“ _Ray_ ,” Brad says and Ray can’t stop the laugh that catches in his throat, because this is the least funny thing that has ever happened to him, and he’s creating it himself, “I need you to be here when I come home.”

 

“Out,” Ray points to the door, trying to sound stern but only managing to sound tired. He bows his head and is surprised when Brad listens to him, his steps heavy as they pass in front of Ray, hesitating for a moment. Ray knows what the other man wants and he just…he can do this for Brad. “I’ll be here,” he says quietly and he only barely manages to hide his flinch when Brad’s fingers curl hot on the back of his neck for a split second before he’s gone, the apartment door clicking shut behind him just as Ray looks up, his stomach churning. 

 

_This is what I wanted_ , Ray thinks as he flops back against the chair, closing his eyes against the sudden room spins, _but not like_ ** _this_** _. I wanted a grand gesture not Brad coming in, pouring out my liquor, and then fucking me up by admitting he needs me but can’t have me._

 

_————————_

 

It’s nearly nine months, and many hours of therapy, later when he hears another knock on his front door. He’s standing in his kitchen, elbow deep in a ball of what is trying to be homemade noodle dough, when he's startled by the sound. Ray blinks up and then looks back down at his hands, still trying to bring the dough together, “Uh, just a minute!” He says it loudly and kind of in the direction of the door as he starts peeling the dough away from his fingers, squishing it into a ball and wrapping it in cling wrap before he washes his hands, pausing on his way out of the kitchen to put the dough in the refrigerator. He’s wiping one of his still damp hands on his jeans when he opens the door with the other and he nearly chokes on his tongue when he sees Brad standing there. 

 

“Hey,” Brad says, and Ray’s hand tightens on the doorknob when he hears how tired he sounds. His eyes take in his appearance hungrily because he’s _missed_ him. They exchanged some short letters, enough that Brad knows Ray’s clean from _everything_ now, and for Ray to know that Brad really actually like the new assholes he had to boss around, but it wasn’t consistent. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Ray asks because that’s all he can _think_ to ask as he’s noticed that Brad’s bag is on the ground and his shoulders are hunched. The other man’s holding himself carefully and it would be impossible for him to miss.

 

Brad shakes his head, waving off Ray’s worry apparently, before he asks, “Can I come in?”

 

“ _Asking_ this time, huh?” Ray tries to joke and he grimaces as he feels it fall flat. He backs into his apartment and uses his hand not still gripping the doorknob to gesture into it, his heart pounding in his ears as he watches Brad struggle to lift his duffel. _What the hell happened?_ He can’t help but think this while he shuts the door behind himself, leaning on it for a moment as he watches Brad set his duffel by the arm of the couch before he turns to face him. 

 

“I was fucked up last time I was here,” Brad admits, crossing his arms over his chest and Ray does’t miss the flinch that crosses his face when he does. “I’m fucked up more now, if I’m honest, but you don’t seem to be,” he sounds happy as he says it, and that makes Ray smile a little sadly at him. 

 

“I’m better. Sober for six months, teaching myself to cook when I’m not working in this weird record shop that I found near the beach, and getting by,” Ray shrugs easily because he’s told Brad all of this already in his letters.

 

“You stayed,” Brad points out and yeah, Ray thought about moving closer to his ma’ after he was all alone and spiraling but he had made Brad a _promise_. So he pulled himself out of his fucking death spiral, went to some VA meetings, and made some new friends all while building this new, sober life around himself and staying _here_ out of some childish hope that Brad would come home to him. 

 

“I told you I would,” Ray replies, still leaning against the door and shoving his hands into his pockets. “You came home to me?” He’s asking because he’s not sure, because it sure _feels_ like Brad’s coming home to him but honestly, who knows with this man. 

 

Brad’s look is sharp as a blade, and Ray can’t help the shiver up his spine as Brad takes a few steps closer, nearly boxing him in. It’s a reverse of their position the last time, with Ray’s back pressing up against the barrier and Brad only an arm’s length from him. “I did,” he sounds like he’s choking on it for a moment and he laughs at himself, “I love you.”

 

Ray feels like the wind has been knocked out of his lungs and the door is definitely holding a lot of his weight as he looks at Brad. “I—” Ray cuts himself off because he doesn’t know _what_ he wants to say. _No you don’t, you love the idea of me_ , he thinks as he looks at Brad. _You only love me because you can’t have me_ , he doesn’t say as he reaches a hand up to worry his thumbnail between his front teeth. “I missed you,” he finally settles on, pressing his thumb against the corner of his mouth as he continues, “But you can’t love me.”

 

The look Brad gives him as he finishes speaking would be amusing if it were directed to anyone else. It’s the look he got when he realized that it was Trombley that shot that kid, a look that has Ray ready to sink through the door and disappear into thin air. “You can’t know how I feel,” Brad argues, and he takes another half a step closer to Ray, and if he even so much as listed forward he’d most certainly be in the other man’s personal bubble.

 

“Maybe not,” Ray accepts, because that much is true however, “I know _you_ though, and it’s never going to be me that’s your number one priority. Or even in your top five, so I can’t let myself feel anything because I refuse to be behind a goddamn _Humvee_.” He’s only kind of joking as he glances past Brad’s shoulder, not wanting to make eye contact as he adds, “I’m still healing from the last time I let you break my fucking heart.”

 

“I never broke your heart,” Brad denies and Ray can’t stop the bitter laugh that passes his lips. 

 

He’s shaking his head as he says sadly, “You broke my heart every fucking day, Sergeant.” Brad looks confused and Ray is…he’s so tired, and he channels his therapist’s advice of _I statements_ as he explains, “I felt my heart breaking every day we were in the goddamn desert and I couldn’t touch you like I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you how I really felt, wasn’t even sure if you _cared_ about me, and you think you can just stroll back with miscellaneous wounds that you haven’t yet told me about and proclaim your love for me and I’m just supposed to accept it?”

 

Ray’s gnawing on his thumb again because his anxiety is high, his stomach floating on the choppy waters of an anxiety attack, while Brad stares at him. “Jesus _Christ_ , Ray, are you completely _blind_? I showed you that I cared about you _every_ fucking day when we were out there, from the very beginning. Why do you think I kept you in my Humvee?”

 

“Like you said last time, I’m the best damn RTO in the business,” Ray says with a shrug, because it’s true, he never for a second that Brad kept him around for more than that. Brad’s balls deep in the Marines, so even if he _had_ taken his head out of his ass for long enough to notice how absolutely gone for him Ray was, there isn’t anything that will ever happen because the military are homophobic pieces of _shit_ that don’t like his kind. 

 

Ray’s kind that is, they _love_ Brad’s kind.

 

Brad grabs his wrist and tugs Ray’s hand away from his mouth, holding it at his side as he finally closes the distance between the two of them, the tips of his boots nudging up against Ray’s sock covered toes. “Josh Ray Person, don’t be an idiot,” he says it nearly under his breath, Ray only hears him because he’s so focused on his own breathing that Brad’s words sound loud in his ear before he’s shocked into a brain glitch, Brad’s mouth pressing against his. 

 

Ray wants to sink into it, because of course he does, but he _shouldn’t._

 

He _can’t_

 

He lets go of the door handle to cup Brad’s cheek, gently pushing him away as he says, “No,” quietly, shaking his head even as his eyes slip closed. “Your soul,” he tries to tease as he opens his eyes, still shaking his head as he catches Brad’s eyes, “Brad Colbert, I’m not big enough to take you from the Marines, don’t pretend like I am.

 

“I’ve been drummed out,” Brad says suddenly, and Ray blinks in surprise because that’s not what he was expecting to hear. Ray was expecting to hear Brad say something about being able to sneak around, or even that it was a one night thing that he was trying to start, he wasn’t expecting to hear that Brad’s _no longer a Marine_. 

 

“Brad,” Ray breathes out as he shakes his head slowly, his thumb pressing against Brad’s chin. “What the fuck happened to you?” he asks, using the hand that he still has on Brad’s jaw to make sure he’s looking at him.

 

Brad’s facing him but he drops his eyes, breaking their eye contact as he says, “Got blown up, survived, but not well enough to still be a Marine apparently.” Ray’s not surprised at how bitter the other man sounds, but he is surprised at the sharp stab of pain in his gut when he realizes that he’s only a back-up choice. 

 

_I was never Brad’s first choice_ , he thinks as he looks at the way the other man is refusing to look at him, _I'm probably not even his second._ “I’m flattered that you want me to be your door prize but, Brad, I can’t do it," he hates how serious he is, because he knows that he can’t handle being Brad’s single use tissue.

 

Brad laughs and Ray is surprised when he ducks low, pressing his face against Ray’s throat as he’s pulling him into a tight hug. “You’re not a _door prize_ ,” Brad mumbles, his hot breath fanning across Ray’s collarbone as he hugs him back, because how can he not? Ray wants to say something else but Brad shushes him as he straightens up from the hug, his hands resting heavily on Ray’s shoulders. “You’re like A/C after being in goddamn Iraq for the summer, or like a perfectly firm mattress, you’re not something that I _used_ in the field, but something that I _wanted_ every fucking day,” Ray wants to call him out on how fucking _cheesy_ that sounds, but he’d have to stop blushing to look like he means it. 

 

“That’s the gayest thing I’ve ever heard,” Ray mumbles, not really meaning it meanly, but needing to say _something_.

 

“I love you,” Brad repeats, and this time Ray can’t avoid looking into the other man’s eyes.

 

“ _Brad_ ,” Ray says, he feels himself give up the fight as he pushes up into Brad’s space and kisses him because he actually believes him now. It’s insane, and his heart is pounding so hard that he can feel it in his _toes_ , but the feel of Brad’s lips on his is one of the best things. He’s marveling at the fact that he didn’t let himself sink into the kiss earlier, patting himself on the back as he feels Brad’s tongue swipe teasingly against his bottom lip. “I want so badly to believe you,” he sighs as he pulls away from the kiss, leaning his head back against the door as he closes his eyes.

 

“When have I ever lied to you?” Brad asks, and Ray is thankful that he’s backed away slightly, giving him room to breathe.

 

Ray opens his eyes and looks at Brad seriously. “You haven’t,” he admits hesitantly, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t start now.”

 

“ _Ray_ ,” Brad says, shaking his head as he’s looking at him and Ray knows he’s being ridiculous but he can’t help it, this is a lot of news to process all at once. 

 

“You’re okay, right? I mean, health wise,” Ray asks because it’s only just now processing that Brad said he _got blown up_. 

 

Brad laughs but it sounds humorless, and Ray can’t stop himself from reaching out, grabbing a hold of one of his hands that’s hanging at his side. “I’m as fine as I can be,” he says with a shrug, “I’ve got pins in my shoulder and wrists, and a few vertebrae have fused together, oh, and nightmares, but that’s less physical health and more mental,” Brad says it all with no fluctuation in his voice, and Ray can tell that he’s intentionally being emotionless. 

 

“You came home to me,” he says it again and knows he sounds amazed, because it’s only just hitting him that that’s what this _is_ , this is Brad coming home _to him._

 

Brad laughs, moving his hand so that he’s lacing his fingers with Ray’s, as he speaks, “Yeah, I did. Because I love you, and I missed you.” 

 

Ray can’t help himself, he leans in again, pressing into Brad’s space and kissing him hard. “I love you too,” he says finally, because he _does,_ he loves him so fucking much that it would make him crazy if he let it. He almost _did_ let it, he thinks as he feels one of Brad’s hands curl against his jaw as he melts against the door, letting Brad press against his front as he kisses him again. 

 

There’s a lot of healing that needs to be done here, and a lot of talking, but Ray thinks that this, kissing like their lives actually depend on it, is a really good place to start. 


End file.
